


One Night In Berlin

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Bedwear Discussions, Colleagues Being Naughty, Confident Draco Malfoy, Draco Has A Small Secret, Fade to Black, Getting Together, Gift Fic, Harry Wearing Boxer Shorts, Harry/Draco Owlpost Fest 2020, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Scandalised Draco!, Sharing a Bed, Some Sexy Allusions, Traditional Draco, Twenty-Something Harry, and Draco too, flirtatious banter, teasing harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Auror Partners Draco and Harry are forced to share a hotel room in Berlin. Snark, secrets, flirty banter and more than a few problems with sleepwear (and the lack of it) are the result.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	One Night In Berlin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unbroken_halo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/gifts).



> Dear unbroken_halo. It was such a lot of fun to write this little tale for you. You wanted older characters set in their ways, getting together and most importantly, sharing a bed. I do hope you enjoy this story every bit as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> I hope you, and all you loved ones have a lovely Christmas and a safe and prosperous 2021.

Harry was annoyed with Draco. He was absolutely furious. 

If they hadn’t been in bloody Berlin – and weren't expected to give the keynote convention speech tomorrow – he’d have far Apparated far away by now. 

_He’d_ sent his accommodation request memo flying its way to the Ministry Administration Office two months before. _He’d_ been organised. Indeed, Robards had stood over him while he did it, his brow furrowed and his arms folded. It seemed that booking a hotel room for the 68th annual International Convention on Magical Creature Smuggling was simply too big a deal for Harry to be left to his normal negligent devices. 

Draco had smirked over at him from across their shared desk. 

“I’ll Firecall _my_ request later,” he’d smirked. “I’ve got personal contacts at _Zum Beschwipste Schnatz_. I’ll ask for my usual room: it has a charmed jacuzzi _and_ a pre-extended wardrobe. I’m not about to slum it with you in those dreadful third-class rooms that the Ministry buys in bulk.” 

Harry had rolled his eyes. He liked his Auror partner plenty – there was no one funnier, or braver in the field – but Draco’s naked self-assuredness did get a bit trying at times. 

Still, a weekend in Germany? That could be a bit of fun. Harry hadn’t ever been to Berlin before and he’d heard that the wizarding quarter there was gorgeous. Even though Robards had put their names forward to give the keynote speech – talking about the big success that they’d had breaking a dragon egg smuggling ring – Harry was still enthusiastic about the trip. 

“Just as long as you remember to book your hotel room!” Harry had shot back at Draco’s pointy face. “If you bloody forget then don’t think you’re going to come _slumming_ with me.”

~~

Harry had gotten his accommodation conformation owl a week later and he had waved it in Draco’s direction with a wide grin. 

His partner had looked up from the file he’d been examining – a missing hippogriff, Harry seemed to recall – and then Draco had shot Harry a cheeky grin. “I’ve got everything under control,” Draco had said then, picking up his quill and running the feather of it through long, elegant fingers. “ _You_ wouldn’t understand Harry. The Malfoy name still opens doors on the continent.”

~~

The final travel memo had arrived on Harry’s desk only the week before they were due to go to Germany. It had detailed everything that he needed to know for the trip. 

There had been all the details about dining, Portkey times and all the information about his hotel room – _a double room, with an en-suite and a Floo connection to the Conference_ – and Harry had happily shown it to Draco. The blond haired wizard hadn’t replied though. All Draco had done was make an unimpressed sniff at the parchment. 

“Typical Ministry,” Draco had said a minute later after he had scanned the memo. “Never pay a Galleon when they can get away with two Sickles.”

~~

Harry was annoyed with Draco. He was absolutely furious. 

It seemed that the Malfoy name no longer opened doors on the continent and that Draco’s usual room wasn’t available. Draco’s bragging and bravado had meant that he hadn’t actually managed to book a Ministry room as a back up either. 

It was a chain of events which had led, irrevocably to their current predicament: standing at the edge of the bed in the only magical – or, for that matter, Muggle – hotel room that was currently available to Draco in the whole of Berlin

A room which, it so happened, was Harry’s very own hotel suite. 

Harry had been up for hours. He was tired. His brain felt frazzled and his feet hurt. The pair of them had traipsed all over Berlin, trying to find Draco a hotel room and now it was past midnight. Draco was waving his wand over the bed, trying various incantations and spells but each fizzled out into nothing. 

“You’re being an absolute prat,” Harry said, casting an _Engorgio_ over his baggage. It instantly returned to its usual size and Harry dropped it to the floor. “You _know_ there’s anti-transfiguration spells built into all the rooms. The hotel doesn’t want their customers ruining their furniture with some half-baked spell, Draco. I don’t know why you’re bothering! You’re not going to get anywhere!”

Draco didn’t condescend to reply. He waved his wand with a flourish – and a few green sparkles shimmered in the air – but nothing happened to the furniture. The blond haired wizard made a hiss of defeat. “I wasn’t _trying_ to transfigure the bed,” Draco said after a moment, his voice tight with annoyance. “I was trying to cast a doubling charm!”

“It’s the same difference!” Harry said, flopping down on the offending bed. It was actually rather comfortable and he felt a wave of annoyance that he’d have to share it. 

Harry sighed and shook his head. “That’s about six different incantations that you’ve tried in about six minutes. You need to stop! The staff’ll be up in a minute, wondering just what the bloody hell we’re doing in here. They’ll think we’re trying to summon the Devil or something equally awful!”

Draco didn’t like Harry’s comment at all. He pursed his lips and sat primly on the other side of the bed, all stiff shoulders and haughty, arrogant bearing. Draco hadn’t even taken off the stylish fitted coat that had adorned his figure the whole of the day. 

Harry let his eyes rest on his partner for a second – Draco really _did_ look rather miserable about today's turn of events – but then he forced himself to pull them away. He really did need to go to bed and get some sleep. Public speaking wasn’t his forte and he wanted to do a decent job at the Conference tomorrow. He didn’t want to let Robards or the DMLE down. 

Harry gave his own ward a twirl and cast an _Accio_. His toiletries and a fresh pair of boxer shorts flew out of his bag and into his hand. Normally he’d just bunker down in the nude but that plan of action wasn’t on the cards this evening. 

Harry hesitated for a moment before he tried speaking again. 

“I’m going to get changed,” he said, speaking to Draco’s still-silent form. “And then I think we’ll hit the sack? No more magic, eh? I don’t want the staff to come knocking.”

The other wizard didn’t reply and Harry rolled his eyes before escaping to the en suite. 

Honestly, of the pair of them, he was the one with the most right to feel annoyed at the situation that the two of them had found themselves in! 

_He_ had been the one who had gotten his act together enough to book a room! _He_ was the one who had given up his privacy! Harry had offered to share the very _minute_ that the Receptionist had given Draco the bad news. 

Draco ought to have been thankful and appreciative but _no_. Instead, the insufferable git was sat there looking every bit like his prize crup had run away from home. 

Harry huffed as he washed his face and charmed his teeth clean. He actually felt quite insulted. He didn’t have bad breath or a terrible body odour and he wasn’t a _total_ troll. None of his previous boyfriends, or any of his Hogwarts dorm-mates had ever said that he snored. Harry knew he was a decent bedmate and if Draco wanted to have a tantrum there was nothing he could do about it. When Harry returned to the bed, Draco was still sat as still as a statue. He looked as though he’d been charmed to the spot. 

“You’re planning to wear your coat and boots to bed?” Harry asked, trying to make light of the fact that Draco hadn’t moved a muscle. 

Draco’s face turned at the sound of Harry’s voice. His gaze flicked across Harry’s physique and his eyes widened. “At least I’m not planning to get under the sheets dressed like that!” he uttered, seemingly scandalised. “You’re practically nude, Harry! Is this some fun that you’re having with me?”

Harry could scarcely believe his ears. Practically nude? The boxers shorts that he’d chosen weren’t figure hugging or even particularly short. He looked back at Draco. The other wizard was flushed red – right to his _ears_ – and Harry watched him jolt his eyes away, quick as a hex. 

If Draco had caught Harry playing with himself in the Quidditch shed showers he couldn’t possibly have looked more embarrassed than he did right then. 

This really took the Cauldron Cake. “Practically _nude?”_ Harry repeated, his jaw dropping to the floor. “I’m perfectly decent, Draco! I’d wear less than this in the public pool! So not only is sharing a bed with me awful, but my nightclothes are as well?”

Draco didn’t turn his head back to face him but Harry could see the blush of his spreading. The side of his jaw and his throat both turned terribly pink. 

“Not awful,” Draco answered, his voice sounding strained. He waved his hand in Harry’s direction. “Just insufficient, Harry! I can see your chest – and your _legs_ – I suppose I’d assumed that you’d wear a tracksuit to bed. One of those awful shapeless Muggle things that you wear to the gym.”

Harry had to laugh at that image. He’d know that pure-blood people had different cultural practices to other wizards but he’d once never expected this reaction. 

Not from Draco, anyway. This was a very different wizard to the flirty Lothario persona that Draco always carefully promoted in _The Prophet_ and among their mutual friends. Harry would have thought that Draco was joking in his reaction but he seemed entirely in earnest. 

“Don’t laugh!” Draco cut, his blush growing even brighter as the seconds passed. He folded his arms; vexation radiating from him in waves. “I’m just trying to do the proper, _decent_ thing and you’re standing there looking all… Looking all _indecent_ , with your legs and your skin and all the –” Draco paused and looked a little defeated by his words. “All the _rest_ of you.”

Harry threw himself down on top of the bedclothes. He wasn’t going to bake in bed all night simply because Draco expected him to be trussed up like some blushing bride on their wedding night. 

“I’ve never had any complaints before,” Harry answered, stretching out on the soft quilt topper. “This is my hotel suite remember? So I’ll dress however I choose to. Now, if you’re not planning to sleep on the floor – which, I might add, you are _more_ than welcome to do – can you _please_ get ready for bed? We both need to at least semi-lucid come the morning.”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” Draco sputtered. He didn’t move though. The man just stood there, ambivalent and uncertain. 

He seemed to be waiting for something but Harry couldn’t imagine what it was. 

“What are you hanging around for?” Harry asked, mystified. “You don’t have to wait for an engraved invitation sent by a bloody owl! Bed sharing is really very simple.” 

Suddenly a thought clicked into Harry’s head and he knew for sure that it had to be true. He gave his friend a smirk that was very similar to the ones Draco often gave Harry. 

“Except you _don’t_ know, do you Draco? I don’t think you’ve ever shared a bed with another chap before.”

Draco looked outraged by his question and then Harry knew for certain. He was right on the wand! 

Truth be told, the whole story fit together perfectly. For all Draco’s boasting and bluster none of his beau ever lasted very long. Harry had rarely even met any of the wizards that Draco had courted. Harry supposed that it all made sense in a strange, esoteric way. Draco’s family were as traditional a family as existed in the wizarding world and old habits died hard. 

Harry knew that he shouldn’t tease Draco. The angel sat on Harry’s shoulder told him to shut his mouth. If Draco hadn’t ever slept in a bed with another man that was his choice to make. Harry knew he shouldn’t judge, joke or even comment.

The devil on Harry’s other shoulder disagreed entirely. In their three years as partners – indeed, ever since they’d both been _eleven_ – Draco hadn’t ever passed up the opportunity to get in a tease or remark. Of course, things between the two of them weren't quite the same as they’d been when they were children. Back then, Draco had been in thrall to his Father and the vile pure-blood ideology that he’d espoused. His bullying, intimidating behaviour as a child had been the result. 

Nowadays, Draco’s teasing was far kinder and affectionate – even, dare Harry say it, _fond_ – and Harry couldn’t help but enjoy the wizard’s company. Even so, Draco’s innate self-confidence, borne of a youth where he’d been told he was a rarefied, special creature, had always had an incomprehensible, powerful effect on Harry. 

He might have been the Saviour of the wizarding world – their bloody _Chosen One_ – but a part of Harry was forever a gauche, graceless little boy, locked in a cupboard beneath the stairs. Not Draco. His partner had always radiated a raw self assurance, even after War. 

But here, in this very moment, Draco was the opposite. For the first time in many years, Harry could glimpse at the man’s Achilles heel. In this very moment, Draco was all vulnerability and innocence. 

Harry found that he was a little unwilling to relinquish his power _quite_ yet. “I have to say,” Harry teased gently, “it does my confidence wonders to know that I’ll be your first bed pal, Draco. Don’t worry, I promise that I won’t take up _too_ much of our bed.”

Draco still didn’t move. He cleared his throat. “You’re incorrigible, Harry Potter,” He shook his head with a resigned air. “And you’d better bloody not! You’ll feel the sharp end of my wand if you disturb my sleep!”

Harry chuckled at Draco’s impertinence. “That doesn’t sound too awful,” Harry replied, raising an eyebrow behind the thin glass of his specs. “I wouldn’t mind feeling your sharp end giving me a poke.”

Harry had only meant his comment as a silly, flirty joke; a final _double entendre_ before he waved his wand, took off his specs and _Nox’ed_ the light. Harry wouldn’t have ever mentioned their sharing a bed incident ever again and he certainly wouldn’t have told anyone Draco’s secret. 

His joke didn’t land though. It fell flat and his colleague didn’t laugh. 

Instead, Harry felt the tension between them skyrocket with all the power of a hex. All of a sudden the air between Draco and he felt visceral; felt heavy with meaning. Harry jerked his eyes from Draco’s, keen to look anywhere except at the other wizard. 

Abruptly Harry felt intensely aware of his body. 

He was conscious of his long legs, brown and lightly haired against the white of the quilt. He was alert to the muscles of his belly, his pebbled nipples and the thick, untamed thatch of hair that covered his chest. Harry felt the race of his pulse and the quickness of his breath in his lungs. 

He had splayed himself out on the bedsheets without a care in the world but he hadn’t spared one thought for how that all might look to Draco. 

With a spontaneous shiver, Harry shook away his explosive thoughts. They were colleagues. Friends. They were supposed to be here for work and supposed to keep things professional. Harry pulled the quilt from beneath himself and slid beneath, covering his body in its entirety. His chest, his tummy and his long legs were hidden from view. Harry felt like he could breath once more.

“There,” Harry said, trying for levity. “All covered up. You can come to bed now. I won’t bite.”

Draco let out a resigned sigh. “I’m sure that you won’t,” he answered, chuckling softly despite himself. “I think that a nibble might be the least of my worries.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to reply to that. Words failed him. The temperature in his suite seemed to rise and suddenly his skin felt prickly and sensitive. It was as if a spell had rebounded and all of Draco’s previous anxiety was coursing through _him_ instead. Harry didn’t even dare turn his head to see if the wizard had began undressing… The anticipation felt absolutely electric. 

Part of Harry wanted Draco to _Nox_ the lights, slide under the sheets and pretend that what was happening was all normal. 

Part of Harry wanted to pretend that this sudden sexy tension shimmering between the pair of them was something that they both could ignore.

Goosebumps rippled over his skin and Harry felt very aware of how small their bed actually was. They were two fully grown men that shared a long and volatile history. How had he thought this was a clever plan? How had he been so blasé about this? 

Harry sat stock still, waiting to see what Draco would do next. 

Then Harry heard it. The tiny tap of fingernails on buttons and the slip of wool against cotton. It was the unmistakable sound of Draco taking off his coat. Harry watched his partner shrug it from his shoulders and hang it over the back of a chair before toeing off each of his boots. Harry felt his pulse race and his mouth dry to almost ash. 

Draco, it seemed, had decided to lie with him after all. Time seemed to slow and Harry turned his head, surreptitiously watching his colleague strip off his clothes. 

Draco unknotted his tie with careful deliberation, sliding the satin of it between slender fingers. Harry observed as Draco tugged the tie from his neck in one fluid, snakelike motion and then curled it around his hand. It was only as Draco began to unbutton his shirt, working from the top to the bottom that Harry realised that he was staring. 

_Circe’s eyes_. Harry found it was nigh on impossible to pull away his gaze. His partner was all lithe lines and hard edges, the dark of his _Sectumsempra_ scars vivid against the pale of his chest. 

Harry couldn’t help himself. He made a small sound and that caught Draco’s attention. Their eyes locked, grey on green and Harry couldn’t look away. It was if he’d been dosed with a love potion or some strange, outlandish spell. Draco undid his belt buckle and lazily led the belt out of his trousers. 

“I have a confession to make Harry,” Draco said, his natural confidence apparently back to full bloom. He raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “I’m taking off my clothes yet I don’t actually have anything to change _into_.”

Harry felt all the breath leave his body. He Nox’ed the lights as quick as a flash. 

The room was plunged into pitch black and so – thank Merlin! – was Draco. Whatever might have been waiting for Harry’s perusal beneath those tailored trousers was lost to the darkness too. Harry huffed out a noise that was half-cough and half-disappointment. The wizard didn’t need to see himself in the mirror to know how crimson and aroused he would look. 

_Draco slept in the nude_. The truth of it danced around Harry’s brain like an enchantment. _Draco slept in the nude_.

He heard Draco’s trousers fall to the floor, the thump of his belt muffled by material. 

Harry felt hands moving the quilt cover backwards and the mattress dip with new weight. As he shifted into a more comfortable position Draco’s fingertips brushed across his hip. It was only the tiniest touch – as light and as gentle as the flutter of a Snitch – but Harry felt the thrill of want track through his limbs. Even though Harry had known Draco was near, the sheer closeness of the other wizard made Harry’s skin tingle. He could feel the warmth radiating from Draco and sense the strength and magic that was a part of him. It was a heady aphrodisiac. 

“So,” Draco said, the sheer proximity of his voice new and scandalous in the darkness, “this sharing a bed with another chap business? You seem to be a bit of an expert Harry. Care to show me the ropes?”

“Hmm,” Harry answered, his voice low and full of desire. “There aren't _too_ many rules to sharing a bed, Draco. Try to rub along with the other chap as best you can. Don’t be selfish.” He let his fingertips idly drift over Draco’s side before he carried on speaking. “And I suppose that a bit of patience and a bit of gentleness go a long way. Make the best use of the _very_ limited space that we’ve got. Bites and pokes _aren’t_ obligatory,” he flirted, “unless, of course, that’s what both parties want.”

“It all sounds rather pleasant,” Draco murmured. They were face to face and so close now that Harry could feel the warm puff of air with each syllable Draco spoke. “Now I do believe I owe you a little bit of a thank you, Harry. This is, after all, _your_ bed. I’m simply the one lucky enough to share it with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxxxx


End file.
